Shadow Gate (22 page)

“Did you see Captain Mani? He was burned alive. I saw the bones in his face while he was still screaming . . . .”

“Captain Mani's dead? Then who's in charge?”

“We have to reach Walshow. There'll be captains there to tell us what to do. . . .”

“We're not going fast enough. If they catch us, they'll kill us. They're demons.”

“Is the lord dead? Can he be dead?”

“Did you see the tent burning? The fire stuck to it. Water wouldn't put it out. No one could escape such sorcery.”

“They promised us! Said nothing would stand in our way.”

“Neh. This was a test. Those who didn't truly trust the lords' power, died. But we survived, didn't we?”

“Heh, so we did. We spoke the proper prayers and offered the proper sacrifices, not like the others. We'll be admitted to the real army—”

“Aui! Look! Eagles!”

Three eagles swooped past. Shouting, the men ran. The eagles rose higher into the sky with an eerie glide, wings not beating. These eagles carried reeves slung into harnesses that dangled beneath, leaving their arms free to hold weapons. Trapped in the brush, she lost sight of them, but she heard the hammer of hooves as a company of horsemen approached at speed.

“Run! Run!” the men cried.

It was too late.

Up the path swept a score of horsemen, black wolves on the hunt. They harvested the fleeing soldiers with swift strokes. Half rode on, up the path, while others spread into the woodland on the trail of men who bolted into the trees. She dared not move; she scarcely breathed.
Men screamed as they were cut down. The mounted soldiers called to one another with calm shouts. One dismounted to survey the corpses killed by the eagle. He was an older man, somewhat older than her husband, although it was difficult to tell his age. He had an outlander's look, with a broad face and pronounced cheekbones, a mustache but no beard, and noble eyes that flicked restlessly over the scene. She held her breath as his gaze passed over the pipe brush, but he looked away. He walked to the spot where the eagle had stood guard over Jerad. He knelt, touched the ground as if the ground could speak to him, then rose. Briskly, he walked directly to the stand of pipe-brush, halted, and spoke.

“Come out.” His words were strangely accented and a little difficult to understand.

She didn't move.

He sighed. “Come out. You are in there. With you is another one.”

Maybe he was only guessing.

He hacked through the pipe-brush above her head, shearing it off. Leaves showered her. Stalks rattled onto her body. He stepped back and waited.

He might still go away.

He tilted his head, rubbed his chin, and took another step back. She heard crashing in the brush, male laughter, and—like a stab in the heart—a woman's sobs. Two black-clad riders emerged onto the path within her line of sight. Using their spears as prods, they were driving Avisha in front of them. She had Zi clutched to her chest. Her eyes were red from weeping, her hair tangled in disarray. She shivered with terror as the men looked her over.

“Pretty girl,” said the older man, measuring her.

Nallo rose and pushed through the brush, splintering stalks in her haste to get to the path before they could do anything awful to Avisha. She flung herself to her knees before the older man. “Don't kill us, I pray you. We've done you no harm. Don't kill us. Take me if you must, but leave the girl alone.”

The laughing soldiers fell silent. The older man pulled off his helmet. He had a pleasant face, even if he did look and talk like a foreigner.

“The pretty girl, she is your sister? You not look alike.”

“She's my husband's daughter.”

“Your husband, where is he?”

“He is dead.”

She cursed herself silently the moment she said it, but the man nodded as he looked from her to Avisha and Zianna, then past them. Jerad came running, and he flung himself at Avisha and hid his face against the fabric of her tunic.

“You are walking from your house to your kinfolk, maybe?”

“That's right. They're expecting us.”

He rubbed his chin again, looked over at the younger soldiers where they guarded the children. “Maybe they are dead, also.”

Three soldiers appeared on the path above and studied the scene, grinning as they spoke to their companions. Farther away, a man's shriek cut off abruptly.

“Please don't hurt us.” Her mouth formed soundless prayers.

He shifted his sword to the same hand that was also holding his helmet, and with his free hand wiped sweat and maybe blood from his eyes, careful as he cleaned his brows, rather like the eagle in his fastidiousness. One of the younger men spoke in rapid words she could not understand, and the older man laughed and, with a friendly smile—or perhaps a mocking one—turned back to her.

“My young comrade wants to know if you and the pretty girl are looking for husbands. We are looking for wives.”

Why had they to suffer all this, and now more besides? Anger boiled over, and words spilled out. “We can't stop you from doing what you want. But don't mock us by calling us ‘wives'!”

He laughed, face crinkling. “Whew! My ears are burning. You remind me of my wife, may she find peace.”

“Then if you have a wife, you can't be looking for a wife.”

“She's dead many years. I am not mocking you.” He offered an affable grin. “Maybe I am having a little fun. We could rape you and kill you. This is true. But that gives pleasure for a moment, and not much pleasure when you come to think of it afterward. Maybe we are wanting something different. We are new to this country. We intend to settle in lands west and north of Olossi. So, if you are looking for husbands, I know where some can be found.” He indicated the five mounted men.

Startled by this speech, she really examined the soldiers. They looked different from Hundred folk in having broad cheekbones and scant beards, but she could tell them apart even with the helmets covering their hair: one had a long, dour face and small eyes, and another a big grin and two missing teeth. One had pox scars and a thoughtful gaze, while the one with the roundest face had a markedly reddish-brown complexion. The one with pretty eyes and regular features kept glancing at Avisha in the way men had when they were thinking more of their strut than their manners. Not that these men need have manners. They carried weapons.

“Are you hunting down the outlaws?” she asked.

“Yes. We hunt them and we kill them.”

“Good!”

“Perhaps these are the ones who kill your husband?”

Grief caught her unexpectedly. Tears blurred her vision. “Or ones like them.”

Three eagles glided past, and one turned in a great loop that took it out of sight over the trees before it dropped back and came to earth with a thump on the path, just where the eagle that had saved them had first landed. A reeve unfastened from the harness and picked his way down the muddy path. He looked over Nallo, Avisha, and
the children, shaking his head as he halted beside the soldier.

“What have you found, Tohon?” he asked.

“Maybe these strong young women will agree to be wives to the Qin soldiers.”

“It seems you saved them from a gruesome fate. That might persuade them, if your charms can't.” The reeve was a good-looking man, with handsome features and a sympathetic expression as he nodded by way of acknowledging her. “I'm called Joss. I'm a reeve out of Argent Hall. You and your sister and the little ones look like you've been traveling for a while. That can't be good, not in these days.”

“It was an eagle killed most of those soldiers, not these men,” said Nallo irritably. “I'd think that you being a reeve, you'd have seen it at once.”

“Would you? Aui! I am found out as a man with little wit and less observational skills.” But his smile took the sting out of the words, and anyway he seemed at ease laughing at himself. He seemed at ease, despite the brutal nature of his task, scouting for soldiers on the hunt for outlaws so they could kill them. If she hadn't recognized the men who were on the run as similar in dress and look to those who had overrun the village, she wouldn't have known who to distrust most. “Listen, verea. We haven't much time, for as you can see we've urgent work at hand hunting down this army of outlaws. We can leave you on the road and let you go your way, or we can direct you to a sheltered spot where you can wait for the Olo'osson militia to escort you to a place of safety.”

“Does that include the offer of marriage?”

He looked at Tohon and laughed again. “Are you making that offer to every woman you meet on the road?”

“No harm in asking,” said the other man. “The young men will want wives. A man isn't complete without a woman. Nor can he fill his tent with children, and what is a man after all without children?”

“He might be something like me,” said the reeve without heat, “so I think your point is well taken. What will it be, verea?”

Belatedly, Nallo realized that Reeve Joss was surely only a little younger than her husband, only he did not seem old as her husband always did. She said, “I'm called Nallo. This is my husband's daughter, Avisha, and her brother and sister. My husband's dead.”

“Yes, I suppose he is. I'm sorry to hear it. Where are you from?”

“I'm born and raised in the Soha Hills. But the village where we lived lies along West Track, or it did, anyway, before it was burned down and half the folk murdered.”

None of these words surprised him. “I've heard this tale too often.”

“Best we be moving.” Tohon sheathed his sword and gave Nallo a wink. “These are good young men. They have discipline. They will treat you in the proper manner, with respect.” He fastened his helmet on his head, mounted, and called the advance. The young man with the pretty eyes raised a hand, in a parting gesture to Avisha, then followed the others up the path on the trail of the fleeing army.

“What do you mean to do?” asked the reeve.

“I would marry,” said Avisha suddenly. “If they meant it. If they would take the little ones in, and raise them as their own. What other hope do I have?”

“Eiya! Don't go leaping before you've looked.”

“Are you saying they're not looking for wives?” asked Avisha desperately. “Maybe they need a marriage portion. No matter what Nallo says, we have nothing and no hope for anything except to walk until we're starving and willing to sell ourselves into slavery. Or until we're caught on the road and raped and cut open and left like refuse in the brush.”

“It doesn't have to end that way. They're as good men as any others. Tohon meant what he said. There's two hundred or more, all looking for wives. They're far
from home and hoping to make new homes here in the Hundred. Just . . . you're a pretty girl, and you're still young. If you'll trust me, and wait in the shelter I've promised, I'll see you get escorted to Olossi. There, you can see what the Qin will offer you to make a marriage with one of them. Just don't go making a bargain before you've seen the goods.”

Avisha began to cry. Nallo fumed, thinking of how the girl had boxed them in with her thoughtless words. To say differently now would sound heartless, not that she didn't have a lot of experience with being called heartless. The hells! Avisha was right. They had no better prospects in Sohayil or Sund, if they could even walk that far with outlaws everywhere.

“How long have you been on the road?” the reeve asked Nallo.

“I don't know. Fifteen or twenty days.”

He sighed. “We're not just hunting outlaw soldiers. We also have a commission from the temple of Ushara by Olossi. We're looking for a man and a woman, a brother and sister as it happens, who cheated the temple. We're hoping to bring them back to face the Hieros.”

She examined her dirty feet, caked with wet slop over dried mud over dirt, layers on layers, like deceit. She owed those two nothing. Then she happened to look over to see Avisha staring at her, lips pressed together to urge her to keep her mouth shut.

Nallo had never felt much allegiance to the gods because the gods had never been particularly kind to her, and because most of their priests were buffoons. Even the Thunderer's ordinands she'd spent her year's apprenticeship with had been self-important imbeciles, or tiresome bullies, or bored slackards going through the motions. Only the Merciless One had shown her kindness. She'd been welcomed into the arms of Ushara, the Merciless One, at her temple in Old Cross. Many a youth went there at the age of choosing, wearing a necklace of
flowers, and was sweetly introduced to the embrace of the goddess. She held those tender memories close. She owed a debt to the Merciless One.

“We saw them down at Candra Crossing.”

“Nallo! How could you!”

He glanced at Avisha, curious at her outburst.

Nallo continued. “They did us a good turn, helped us across the ford with the little ones. Otherwise we might not have made it. We didn't realize they were runaway slaves until after we had crossed.”

“How did you find out?”

“I overheard them talking. So they went their way, and we went ours. They must be days ahead of us. They had horses.”

“Many refugees walk the roads in troubled times.”

“He had the debt mark by his eye. Her name was Zubaidit.”

His eyes flared. Then he smiled. “That's right. They were traveling on this track?”

“They walked the road out of Candra Crossing that leads into the Soha Hills. We walked that road for a few days, but I thought it would be safer to stay away from the main road.”

“You were right to do so. These outlaws are running scared. They've attacked villages and done worse.”

“Then we'd be foolish to keep traveling rather than taking an offer of shelter. The outlanders you're hunting with, they can't possibly kill all the outlaws, can they?”